"track 13"

I never really likened to the idea of a weekend. Everyone in a frenzy to spend money, stay up late, and do nothing. Now, there doesn't seem to be any end to them (weekends) that will satisfy. I stay up until, mind and body, both, become mush. Which really puts me in bind because then I'm unable to stop doing nothing. Hmm. Spending money, however, is not so much of a problem, due to the lack there of... even so, where's there's a will, there's a way...

Thank goodness for music. Right now letting the sweet swelling chords of emotion, subtlety and despair of the soundtrack to the ridley scott epic The Gladiator wash over me... a bit tough to make obvious pop culture references at the same time that I'm trying to relay the fact that I'm feeling peaceful and inspired.

Speaking of pop culture, ridley scott, emotion and despair: Saw black hawk down tonight/yesterday. Recommend going to see it. Extremely well done, of course. Soundtrack done by the same guy (Hans Zimmer) as for gladiator. Based on a book, which was based on actual happenings in somalia, so they really couldn't go too wrong, as far as making it too sappy, or dramatic (well, they could, but from what my friend tells me, they stuck to the book... thank goodness). Not for everybody (what is?!), it's pretty graphic, but that adds to the intensity of it all, very easy too lose yourself in the whole thing. And it does bring the current fighting that's going on in Afganistan to home. Sorry, I know I'm not saying anything new here. Really is an experience though.

Still struggling to keep up with e-mails (and thank you notes to family... damn), if you're waiting to hear from me, I apologize.

�Mother�s handsome father was the mayor. He was so well liked that no one in town voted for his opponent. He won a contest by writing the slogan: �When better automobiles are built, Buick will build them.� He and a friend journeyed to Detroit to pick up the contest prize. The trip was a famous spree; it lasted a month. He died not long after, at forty-one, when Mother was seven, and left her forever full of longing.� - An American Childhood by Annie Dillard